


I'm Always Polite

by arcaladiwoompa



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bulges and Nooks, F/M, Hermaphroditic Trolls, Light Bondage, Nookworms, Oral Sex, Public Sex, Xenobiology, dubcon, sex with psionics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 11:09:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8487043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcaladiwoompa/pseuds/arcaladiwoompa
Summary: Current status as of July 30, 2017:  I have a big chunk of the next chapter written but I'm working on a different story that I haven't posted yet at the moment.-------Self filling my own kinkmeme prompt! :'DThe Condesce molests the Signless with her psionics while he is chained to the flogging jut in front of a crowd.  She didn't expect him to loudly, shamelessly enjoy himself while his friends cheer from the sidelines.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sabaku_no_gaara_ai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabaku_no_gaara_ai/gifts).



At long last The Signless, that loathsome thorn in the gills with his hideous mutant blood and worse, his treacherous ideology, is hitched so high up on the flogging jut he can barely reach the ground with his toes, which still doesn’t make him anywhere near tall enough to meet Her Imperious Condescension eye to eye; yet he somehow finds the nerve, the absolute _gull_ to turn this into a staring contest. The Condesce refuses to allow her lip to curl upward. She refuses to let the very sight of him turn her blood to acid. There is nothing to admire in his fearlessness; she is about to make sure of that personally. Every troll has his limit. As soon as she breaks him he will be soiling himself and sniveling for his life like all the others, at which point his presence will bore her and she can wash her hands of him as her E%ecutor takes over the reins. She hopes his bravado won’t waste much more of her time. 

Now, where to start? She lifts a perfectly manicured claw to her chin, narrowing her eyes at him in consideration. Those shackles are the obvious choice. It would be so easy to heat them to a suitable shade of red and turn that angry little line of red chafing at his wrists into smoldering charcoal. All it would take is a steady application of psionics. It wouldn’t even have to be her own. She could leave just enough room in the mind of his yellow friend that The Ψiioniic can see the destruction he’s causing with his own mismatched eyes in real time. Two punishments in one - how’s that for playing into his supposed duality fetish? 

Behind the brave face Signless feels a sort of confused disconnect from his situation, almost as though he doesn’t belong here. He is uncharacteristically quiet, his thoughts stuck in a loop around the incongruous fact that Ψii hasn’t heard his voice- any of their voices for that matter- screaming their last on this night. Has his best friend ever been wrong? What could possibly happen at this point that would make the Empress decide not to disembowel him and leave his remains to dry in the sun? Will it be worse? He does not care to dwell on trying to guess what similarly gruesome prospect she may be hiding in the blackened husk of her collapsing and expanding bladder based vascular pump. 

No, he retracts that last thought immediately. Allowing herself to become so misguided, so deeply entrenched in the mindset of tyranny, still does not inherently make her a lost cause. He remembers visions of braids and boundless enthusiasm. He remembers a reluctant leader borne of necessity. Surely some remnant of that girl must persist somewhere, if only he could make her see it. 

Neither party has blinked. By the way the Signless mirrors her expression, scarlet eyes hooded and head tilting slightly to the side, the Condesce can tell he hasn’t the foggiest idea what she is thinking of doing to him. Her sources were correct: the dreams may be related to some kind of psychic inclination but there isn’t a speck of mind reading capability in those blunt little horns of his. What if she plants a few ideas in his head and lets him stew in it for a while? Nah, why ruin the surprise? She would rather sea the horror dawning on his face as the metal grows unbearably warm. There will be plenty of time to watch him squirm either way. 

Speaking of making him squirm… The Condesce has changed her mind on a whim. She can afford to waste time as she damned well pleases and make everyone – thousands of spectators – wait through this public execution while she has a little fun. Best of all, they will hang on her every word and follow her every movement for as long as she deems fit. They will shower her in adoration and fear and loathing in equal parts. Forget water, Her Imperious Condescension intends to continue to swim in the limelight every night of her life for a very long time to come. Just this once she’s going to let this little shrimp have a role on her stage. She will even delay the physical torture until after she has thoroughly ruined him in front of her gathered subjects and his remaining conspirators. Few traitors are afforded such generosity. He should be grateful. 

With the hand that was previously resting on her chin, the Condesce reaches out to cup his chin in a claw-like halo of psionics. He tries to fight it as she forces his head upward and back in submission, but of course her powers are too strong to resist. She could snap the entire curve of his neck if she wasn’t actively trying not to. Gesturing with a single claw tip, she scratches a thin slice of scarlet across his exposed throat, in mockery of the prospect of a quick and gentle death. Thirsty for his reaction, she sends another little arc of psionics spiraling up from the back of his knee to his inner thigh. 

He blinks. Oh, does he ever blink, complete with a startled expression and a little shiver. When she mirrors the same maneuver on his opposite leg she can even see a hint of a blush rising to his cheeks. The quiet of his voice betrays the first hint of nervousness, reaching only as far as her webbed ears. “What are you doing?” 

“Aw, you disappointed me buoy. For a seacond there I thought you fin-ally learned how to keep your mouth shut. I swear, I gotta do everyfin myshellf around here.” The Condesce then proceeds to shut it for him, pressing a seal of psionics to his lips. She pours another trickle of power past his blunt row of teeth and uses it to stick his tongue to the roof of his mouth for good measure. 

The Signless makes a little wordless noise through his nose and lets his eyes fall closed for a moment. Even after the Condesce takes her power away from his chin his head stays tilted back, resting against his arms as if he has forgotten it there. 

“Do I smell mating fondness? Oh, this is too rich.” Her grin widens as a wave of shocked gossip ripples through their onlookers. What better way to discredit him than to let everyone watch him drench himself in genetic material? She hasn’t decided yet whether to make him leave a massive stain in the ridiculous leggings he has hiked up to his armpits or to shred them to pieces entirely. “I shoulda figured you like a crowd as much as I do.” 

For the record, the Signless also really, really likes psionics. He already misses the curl of electricity that dissipated from around his legs. 

“This is the biggest audience you ever had huh? You betta make it a good show, Shrimpy, cos you don’t get a seacond take.” 

Oh _dear_ , she’s _right_. His enemies outnumber his followers by a factor of hundreds of thousands and the fraction of them represented in this densely packed communal area go on so far he can’t even tell where it ends. His ears grow hot as his eyes dart from face to face in the crowd around him. Just because this sort of fantasy may have come up in roleplay a few times does not mean the Signless would ever have the indecency to act on it in public. His mother is _right there_ for heaven’s sake. Catching her gaze, he recalls a deeply embarrassing conversation in which she elaborated on the wild days of her youth, casually squeezing in as many concupiscent partners as she could before the looming responsibility of her cavern duties would inevitably lock her away. 

His mother cups her shackled hands to shout to him: “It’s okay to have kinks my dear!” 

Next to her the Ψiioniic cries out laughing so hard he has to lean on his guard for support. 

“Rawr!” The Disciple wriggles her hips and her eyebrows at him. She also bellows at the Condesce with all the enthusiasm of an announcer at a sports event. “Ooh, make sure you scratch behind his ears!” 

“Get his horns, he loves that!” The Ψiioniic wheezes through a peal of giggles. 

Honestly. Some people are no help at all. He wants to huff back at them and demand whose side they’re on, but all he can manage with his mouth welded shut like this is to puff up with indignation and roll his eyes. The Disciple sticks her tongue out at him in response. Oh who is he kidding, the gleeful teasing of his dearly beloved friends only adds more fuel to the fire of his imagination. Face burning, the Signless returns his gaze helplessly to the Condesce’s amused predatory grin. He rolls his hips in her direction with an air of resignation, silently pleading for her to continue. 

She eats it all up like cake. Skipping past all the pleasantries, the Condesce takes the Ψiioniic up on his suggestion. This would come as quite a surprise if Signless had half a brain cell left to spare for higher reasoning, but at the moment he does not. His neurons are too devoted to chasing after the trajectory of the orbit around his horn beds. The effervescent touch slows and surrounds both horns, seeping deep into the porous chitin. Signless lets out a deep moan, his body hanging slack from his chains. Without the shackles on his wrists he would be on his knees by now. 

He fights to catch his breath as the Condesce sweeps her psionic touch downward. It skitters over the nape of his neck, almost a caress. She traces along every vertebra of his spine until her power ends up pooled under his ass, not nearly close enough to the folds of his empty, dripping nook. 

His bulge meets resistance against his tight pants, barely able to unsheathe. The Condesce takes notice. Translation: She takes advantage. The Signless suddenly finds himself overwhelmed by the ripples of pressure she exerts inside his sheath all the way to the root, squeezing, stroking, kneading. This has to be the most intense, razor thin line he has ever toed between unbearable discomfort and euphoria. His trapped bulge can’t decide whether it’s desperate to release immediately or drill through his internal organs. There is no escape no matter how hard he jerks his hips forward. Somewhere in a distant corner of his brain he is aware of the sound of Meulin whooping and Ψii with the loudest whistle ever, in spite of or perhaps because of his huge fangs. 

This was a great idea. The Condesce sounds remarkably casual, sweeping her arm to indicate him in an expansive gesture. “Any of you other chumps got an idea? I eel like takin’ requests.” 

Few coherent sentences can be pieced together from the resulting cacophony. Those that do are lewd and bloodthirsty in equal measure. 

“Stop fucking around and kill him already!” 

“Tear off his clothes! I wanna see his bulge!” 

“He has a fantastic ass!” 

“Shove a huge nookworm in him!” 

“Slit his throat!” 

“Spank him!” 

“With my own fronds? I don’t think so. Darkleer, you do it.” 

Darkleer does not look like he would survive the ordeal. 

“Hah! Stand down, Seahorse, I was only pullin your leg. Everybody else shut up. I can barely hear Shrimpy here over you noisy losers, and that’s a cryin shame.” 

She hasn’t let up on his sheath throughout this entire exchange; Shrimpy practically is a crying shame at this point. The Condesce decides to loosen up on his tongue, listening with an almost scientific fascination as his nasal whines morph into full throated screams. _Fuck_ if that doesn’t go straight to her bulge. She needs to finish this quickly before it gets out of hand. 

The Signless is enveloped from chest to ankles in a halo of blue and red light that instantly obliterates his clothing beyond any hope of salvage. He can barely feel the tingling on his skin over the rush of relief as his bulge finally hits the breeze. He needs to come so very badly. The air is so thick with his pheromones that he could asphyxiate even the furthest edges of the crowd any second now. 

He _does_ have a fantastic ass. Let’s see if he likes getting fucked up the waste chute. She shoves a tendril of power past his sphincter without warning; now _that_ makes him squirm. At first his expression becomes a hilarious mix of shocked and offended, but soon his posture begins to loosen, his eyebrows still furrowed with uncertainty. She gives an experimental thrash, compressing his nook receptors from the wrong direction. 

This time he gasps. God, it feels so dirty. Ψii has never, never done this to him, but the more he acclimatizes to it, the less he cares. “Do that harder, please.” 

“Well aren’t you polite all of a sudden?” The Condesce is so pleased she has to resist the urge to pat his ass and coo. “Just think how much trouble we all coulda saved if you remembered your manners earlier, such a shame.” 

“I’m always polite,” Signless manages to pant in retort as she stuffs him so impossibly full he feels the ridges of his nook walls grinding against each other. They are his last words before his genetic material comes gushing out all over his feet. The Condesce has ruined applause for him forever; he will never be able to dissociate the crowd’s raucous cheering from the last delicious aftershock it wrings out of his globes. 

His first words afterward are “Oh my god.” 

He should look ridiculous like this, but there’s absolutely nothing shamefaced about him. All his muscles are utterly relaxed. His purr is loud enough to make his chains jingle. His smile appears satisfied, but his smoldering, hooded eyes suggest otherwise. Out loud, he asks softly, so only she can hear: “When is it your turn?” He very pointedly looks down before he lifts his gaze again. In his mind, so strongly it’s almost impossible not to read by reflex, he thinks, _I could take your entire bulge right now._

She picks up a brief impression of his jaws open wide around her bulge, so careful with his teeth, and that’s it, she’s done, she needs to go pail him right this instant. 

Except the E%ecutor’s second in command is looking at her expectantly, sweating almost as profusely as Darkleer would be if he hadn’t already fainted from a case of the vapors. “Orders, Your Imperious Condescension?” 

Fuck responsibilities. “Go dump Darkleer’s ass in the shower and turn the cold water on,” she snaps irritably. “Exile Leijon, don’t krill her. Shrimpy comes with me. No change in orders for the others.” After that she dismisses everybody, growling threats at any who dare to linger. This is her time now, and she doesn’t want onlookers anymore. 

The high wears off quickly as the Signless watches the crowd losing interest and dispersing around him. He feels hollow as his loved ones disappear from view, likely never to be seen again. How much time did he manage to buy for them with this unexpected little publicity stunt? He is startled from his thoughts by the renewed touch of psionics on his skin; the Condesce is hastily wiping away all his gene slime. A considerable amount of the sticky mess was coating his still unsheathed bulge and the vicinity of his nook and inner thighs. The Signless sets guilt on the back burner and allows himself to be thoroughly distracted. Before she has even bothered to unfasten his shackles she is already looming over him with her tongue prying his teeth open. She kisses him breathless. She kneads at his grub scars. He is so ready for a second round he doesn’t care how soon afterward she decides to kill him as long as he gets to wrap his legs around her right here, right now, with anyone and everyone watching. 

“You’re so eager.” The Condesce chuckles at the owlish confusion on his face as she pries away to take his chains off. Limbs still weak, he crumples into a sitting position slumped against the base of the flogging jut. He stares up at her, rubbing at his sore wrists. It never even occurs to him to run. 

When she scoops him up with one easy motion into her arms, the very first thing he does is throw his arms around her neck and start mouthing at her gills. “ _Fuck_.” She was one checked reflex away from accidentally crushing her new toy. “Are you _tryin_ to make me krill ya now? You betta stop that until _after_ we get to my block if you know what’s good for ya.” 

“Huh? You don’t want to krill me? I mean cull me?” 

What a dumb question! She jumps into the air and takes off without warning, laughing as the Signless gives a frightened shriek and clings to her for dear life. 

***

The Signless is _such_ a lowblood; just look at him boggling at all the gold and statues and tapestries like he’s never seen a throne room before. Her Imperious Condescension is quite pleased with the sleek opulence of her newly constructed battleship, mere days away from conquering the skies. What better way to break it in than with the enemy kneeling at her feet? She sets the Signless down and pushes on his shoulders until he gets the hint. Sinking onto her throne with her legs spread wide, she peers down at him with a hungry, expectant smile on her face. 

This reality makes less sense than his most implausible dreams, and the Signless still isn’t quite sure how it all happened; his heart hasn’t stopped pounding in his throat since they landed. He dives for the zipper of her wetsuit, leaning in to swallow up her bulge to the root from the moment it slips free from its sheath. His tongue explores every cranny between her round little suction cups on the way down. She tastes like pheromones and sea salt. 

He pushes her knees up out of the way and slides his hands down along her thighs to press circles into her globes with his thumbs. He doesn’t mind when she takes this as an invitation to use his shoulders as a footrest. The Signless lets his eyes fall closed as the Condesce’s claws land possessively in his hair, scratching at his scalp and stroking the back of his ears from base to tip. He resumes purring. She cries out and balls her hands into fists. He purrs harder. It’s difficult to smile with his mouth so full. 

Every noise that falls from her lips must be repaid tenfold, lest he forget that he is not her equal. Toward this end the Condesce reaches out with her Summoning powers toward the cozy little box tucked away in a corner of her new respiteblock. Roused from its sleep, her amphibious nookworm comes waddling toward the throne room in search of a meal. Its ancestors could have kept on hibernating through the lean times until Drone Season, built up a padding of fat and gone back into torpor for the next sweep, but this pampered little creature feasts so regularly it might roll more easily than it can walk. She doesn’t even have to drop a suggestion once it’s close enough to the doorway; the smell of freshly released gene slime within easy reach is enough. 

The Signless has no idea the nookworm is making a beeline for him until it starts inching up his leg with its gripping claws. His purring cuts off abruptly. What is that? It feels so foreign. Wait, he thinks he knows what it is; another extravagant item he would never be able to afford even if his calling earned him actual money instead of bartered supplies, places to sleep and a few favors. The grublike creature’s head is cold, hard and unyielding but its mouth parts are soft, lapping up the remaining genetic material it can reach just inside the lips of his nook before trying to push its way farther in. So intrusive! He can’t suck in his breath, so he sucks hard on the Condesce’s bulge instead. 

She rolls her hips and lets out a short trill. “Ooh, you like that?” 

He answers with a growl less in protest than because he wants to make her squirm in her superfluous, gaudy excuse for a chair. She just loves trying to throw him off without asking if he’s okay with it first, doesn’t she? He could give her an earful later, or he could make a point his teeth right now. They’re perfectly functional, thank you very much. He bites down just hard enough to prove it. 

“Ha! Now you want to go caliginous on me? I thought your hate glands were broken.” 

“Hmph.” Wow, rude. Just because some of us choose not to overindulge in our baser instincts…

The nookworm will not be ignored. Why won’t it be let inside? It pushes its head up against the nook lips of its host and buzzes impatiently. 

Ooh, he _does_ like that. Relaxing his jaws, the Signless builds up a slow rhythm rocking back on his knees and swallowing her up again. 

Success! The nookworm presses its advantage and wriggles in its whole head. When that doesn’t meet much resistance, its front pair of legs are the next to go, hooking onto an internal ridge for leverage-

“Hnn!” The Signless arches and moans, eyes squeezing tightly shut. 

-Just in time, because the abrupt movements of its host could have easily dislodged it. It isn’t much, but there is more genetic material to eat here. The nookworm systematically screens the proteins through its digestive pores and excretes the excess water as waste. 

Oh _god_. Every shift inside him makes him whimper. He rocks back harder, nook muscles now actively trying to pull the fat parasite in deeper. It doesn’t help. Contentedly lapping away, the stubborn nookworm refuses to budge until it’s sure it hasn’t missed a single drop. The Signless can’t stand how slowly it inches forward, splitting part of him wide open while the rest remains excruciatingly empty and untouched. There is no taper to it at all. The farther it goes, the more his nook ridges keep getting caught in the valleys between its undulating segments. He buries his face in the Condesce’s lap and screams. 

She doesn’t bother holding back her groans of pleasure anymore. Who cares, he’s much louder. Just _look_ at him- drooling all over her bulge, nearly collapsing on his knees with her nookworm’s tail hanging halfway out of him and twitching. The Condesce is almost jealous of her own pet. One of these days she’s going to bend him right over and apply all of her suckers to his nook walls, but for now she is content to grab him by both horns and buck into him. Of course the Signless can’t beg like this but he as may as well be with all the sounds he’s making. “Are you listening to yourshellf?” the Condesce croons. “You just can’t get enough, can you? Look at me.” 

He tries, he really tries. He can barely get his eyes open and when he does they can’t focus on her face. Then the nookworm’s head bumps up against his seed flap with its mouth parts rhythmically probing inside, and he has to give up entirely. His eyes are rolling back in his head. His world explodes into stars. 

The nookworm is still hungry. Its host’s nook walls have clenched; why is there no more slurry? There must be more slurry hiding somewhere. Perhaps they did not clench hard enough. It spreads out its fan tail to knead at his globes. Perhaps it did not reach deep enough. It headbutts his seedflap over and over again, but no matter how it tries to wriggle its head is too big to fit inside. The nookworm buzzes loudly with indignation. 

He keens. He wails. He can’t stop. Help! Help! Too much! He can’t come down! The Signless’s screams take on an increasing note of distress. His eyes fly wide open, his eyebrows furrow, and when he finally manages to focus right on her face, the look he gives the Condesce is one of pure desperation. 

That does it. The Condesce releases her slurry all over him, smearing her throne, painting him pink from the neck down, flooding his mouth until it pours down his chin in a thousand rivulets. The Signless helplessly keeps on going until the last waves have crashed and faded. He even swallows a few mouthfuls - _so filthy_. He manages not to choke at all. She’s secretly impressed. 

_Don’t bother, plenty of slurry out here._ The nookworm wriggles backward in a real hurry. _Good gill_. It almost gets its head stuck for a second there as its host clenches one last time. The SIgnless is absolutely drenched in slurry. How convenient. The nookworm has ingested just enough slurry for its translucent white body to take on a slightly red tint, turning more and more fuschia as it works on its new batch of food. After it finishes cleaning him up it moves onto the puddle on the floor, then up the throne, then the little bit left between its owner’s thighs. Now it’s full. It debates for a moment whether or not it is too lazy to return to its box with the nice soft bedding material. 

The Signless collapses in an exhausted, shivering heap on the floor. The Condesce drinks in the sight of him while it takes several minutes for him to recover, his heavy breathing gradually slowing and his dazed eyes fluttering open. To her surprise, the first thing he does when he manages to regain control of his limbs is to get up, drape his arms around her and curl up in her lap with his head resting on her shoulder. She will allow it, just this once. Nobody has to know if her hands accidentally to go back to patting his hair. He closes his eyes and sighs. Her nookworm climbs up onto him and curls up on his abdomen, soaking up his considerable body warmth. The little traitor. 

“I don’t hate you, you know,” The Signless murmurs sleepily into her neck. It’s been a very long night. 

“Why?” 

“Because you’re better than this, Meenah.” 

“What the fuck, how- that’s creepy. We are not on a first name basis.” 

“After you had sex with me twice?” 

“Okay fin. But not in public.” That gets a loopy giggle out of him, and it takes her a second too long to remember why. Of course she isn’t going to let him be seen in public again, and that exhibition on the flogging jut was enough to pull off once. “Fuck this, I’m tired. You know what I _meant_.”

He’s not quite sure that he does, but he hums agreement and snuggles closer anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't already joined me here after Magic and Cheating and The Wriggler's Preacher, welcome to fandom hell. :'D
> 
> Dedicated to Sabaku No Gaara Ai, because i know she loves Signless/Condesce porn.
> 
> I'm not sure how much of this I'm actually going to write, maybe one more chapter but more focused on plot and feelings than porn. I still have a few more ideas for how this goes and then it sort of peters out. I don't intend to take on another full out super long Signless fic like The Wriggler's Preacher is trying to become.
> 
> Edit: I made a one word anatomical edit because whoops, thumbs don't work that way.


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